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IfETERAN tOM 



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THE SUI^(3EOJSr 



MARY LOLEMAEEST 




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PHILADELPHIA: 

Presbyterian Board of Publication, 

1334 Chestnut Street. 






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COPYRIGHT, 1880, BY 

THE TRUSTEES OP THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION. 



Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada, 



No. 46. 



VETERAN TOM AND THE SURGEON. 



A FIRST-RATE surgeoD, sir, you are, 

To bathe and set and bind 
Our broken bones, but you can't set 

At rest a troubled mind. 
I've heard you talk, sir, many a time ; 

You are so young and free 
You'll not be vexed, sir, with the words 

Of an old man like me? 
NoWj what's the use of blaming God, 

And pulling things apart ? 
Does all this fretting save from sin 

Or heal a broken heart ? 
Men can't find out by guessing, sir. 

Just how they got their breath. 
Nor where the atom came from first, 

Nor what comes after death. 
And when some dreadful grief and loss 

Comes marching on with doubt, 



4 ViJTERAN TOM AND THE SURGEON. 

They find from everything in life 

The bottom drops right out. 
IVe heard how one — a great man, sir, 

In England — who denied 
The God that made him, broke his heart 

When his own idol died. 
I was so sorry for that man ! 

If he had only known 
God loves us far too well to give 

Our hungry hearts a stone ! 
A pity 'tis, sir, as you say. 

Some folks that God has fed 
Don't seem to know the difference 

Between a stone and bread. 
You see, we are so obstinate. 

So foolish, sir, and blind, 
Outside our prison-doors we say, 

" The cell's more to our mind." 
And many a time we grow so proud 

That we are sure to fall ; 
But mind you, sir, the fault is ours. 

And not the Lord's at all. 
And as for doubts and questionings 

That vex so many still, 



VETERAN TOM AND THE SURGEON 

He says his doctrine shall be known 
To them that do his will. 



You want to hear my story, sir ? 

It's kind of you, I'm sure ; 
I'm only Tom the veteran, 

A cripple, old and poor. 

I went into the army, sir. 

When I was but a lad ; 
For nigh on thirty years it was 

The only home I had. 
And then I quit, sir, for a while. 

What made me change my life ? 
Why, w^e had laid some money up, 

Myself, sir, and my wife 
(She didn't like the service much. 

She thought it made me wild) ; 
And so we bought a little home 

For us and for the child. 

But soon our boy fell sick and died ; 

It was a fearful blow. 
My wife had all the courage then ; 

I got so awful low, 



B VETERAN TOM AND THE SURGEON. 

And fretted so against the Lord, 

She said to me one day, 
" Tom, don't you think it's time that you 

Should give the Lord his way ? 
He'll do his will, you may be sure, 

No matter how we iight ; 
And though my arms are empty, Tom, 

I know his ways are right." 

I quit my grumbling, then and there. 

We had a blessed life 
Together for one twelvemonth ; then 

He took away my wife. 
Oh, sir, I did not fight him then ; 

It seemed to me her prayer. 
Her dying prayer to God, it was 

That kept me from despair ; 
For just when all the world grew dark 

The Lord became my light ; 
I reached my empty arms to him — 

I knew his ways were right. 

Then other troubles came through men — 
They swore I was a thief, 



^/ETERAI^r TOM AND THE SURGEON. 7 

They stole my good name from me, sir, 

And gave me years of grief. 
They called me canting hypocrite, 

Mocked at my God and jeered. 
Until one day the thief confessed, 

And my good name was cleared. 
But oh, in every trouble, sir, 

And in my sore disgrace, 
I never yet did find the Lord 

Had turned away his face. 

Not for my goodness — no, sir, no ! 

But for his faithfulness ; 
The Lord's a friend that always sticks 

The closer in distress. 

Oh, that was years and years ago. 

And now Tm old and lame ; 
They sent me to this hospital 

The year before you came. 

I'd rather not be pensioned off. 

Though I am only fit 
To help the sicker fellows, sir. 

And cheer them up a bit. 




8 VETERAN TOM Q 016 il'i "a/r"^' 

I'm like that old cup on the shelf, 

That's only good to hold 
Fresh water for some thirsty chap 

(It's clean, sir, though it's old). 
The devil used to whisper, sir, 

" It was a trifle hard 
That when a fellow wants to march, 

He's ordered to stand guard." 
But now I wait my Captain's word ; 

'Twill sound through all the host ; 
I want him, when he comes, to find 

Me faithful at my post. 

You ask me. Does his service pay ? 

Ah, sir, indeed it do ; 
He died for me, he saved my soul — 

He'll do the same for you. 
With all your learning and your strength, 

Your free and hearty ways. 
Oh 'list for Jesus ! then you'll find 

How well his service pays ! 



Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1334 Chestnut St., 
Philadelphia. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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e 016 112 377 8 



